


Regina Calls You Home

by finch (afinch)



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-18
Updated: 2008-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes telling the story of Kat and Patrick after she goes off to Sarah Lawrence. Song lyrics from The Call by Regina Spektor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regina Calls You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for -Pikaso- for 2008 Yuletide

_It started out as a feeling / Which then grew into a hope / Which then turned into a quiet thought / Which then turned into a quiet word_

"Do you think we can make this work?"

2900 miles would separate them. He frowned. "Yes."

She smiled. "At least it's easy to get to? Just take 90 for ever until Cleveland, and then 80 the rest of the way. Straight shot." She paused, then added, "I want to make this work. I want us to have a chance. Besides, you could live in Manhattan, maybe. Eventually. If we really want to make this work."

"Kat ..."

"14% of Americans marry their high school sweetheart."

"And how many of them divorce within five years?"

"Please don't do this."

"Kat."

"Please?" "You really think we can make this work?"

She hesitated, thought about it, didn't give the automatic response. "Yes," she said finally. "I do."

_And then that word grew louder and louder / 'Til it was a battle cry_

It was November and he was looking at apartments in Manhattan. She was 20 miles away then, and not nearly 3000. Still, Manhattan wasn't the best of places to start over, but at least it was something. At least it got him that much closer to her. Yes, she had said, yes, yes, yes. They could make this work. More importantly, she wanted to make this work. That was all that mattered to him. He wanted it with a fiery passion, she wanted it for whatever reason she wanted it. The answer had been yes, and so he used that as his guide.

_I'll come back / When you call me / No need to say goodbye_

"Come visit this weekend." "You don't have work?" "It's just work, Kat, Come visit." "I have a paper." "Write it here."

"Patrick." And she said it so simply, he started laughing. "You know," she continued. "If I come there won't be a writing of the paper. There will be- what there will be."

He nodded, though she couldn't see. "I understand."

"Next weekend, though ..."

He laughed, hanging up the phone gently after scolding her to write her paper. It was easier to exist this way, in a world of half-goodbyes and full I love you's. Of a place where love flowed free and sweet.

Just because everything's changing / Doesn't mean it's never / Been this way before

"Kat ..." "Patrick! Did you or did you not pay Sheldon Lang to bungle his science project?"

He stopped and sighed, rubbing his head, "It's not that easy."

"I wanted to win on my own merits, Patrick!"

He cringed, "I know."

"Then why did you do it." "I don't know." "Liar." "I don't know." "Liar." "Because I love you." "What?"

She sounded surprised, almost relieved. "I like you better when you come to the apartment when you're not stressed over grades."

"That doesn't excuse what you did." And she hung up. He wondered if buying her a Les Paul would in any way make up for it, but doubted it.

_All you can do is try to know / Who your friends are / As you head off to the war_

"Bianca? I messed up with your sister. How do I fix it?"

Bianca sounded busy. And loud. Clearly her sister leaving and half moving in with a boy had restricted some of the guidelines that had been placed on that household. "Uhm," she said. "I don't know."

"You're her sister, you have to know."

"Did you say sorry?"

"She won't listen."

"Oh." Bianca pondered this. "Too bad you already bought her something. Or else you could propose."

_Pick a star on the dark horizon / And follow the light_

Proposing was a novel idea, but not one he wanted to use to end the argument.

"Come to the apartment this weekend."  
"What did you buy me?"  
"Nothing."  
"Nothing?"  
"I swear."

She hung up the phone gently after saying yes and he looked around the tiny apartment, painted and cleaned, with some new furniture. It wasn't him buying her anything, and he still had a thousand ways to say sorry, but it was a start. Because he wanted to marry her more than he'd wanted anything before. Even if he was just a trade worker and she going to be an educated woman. He was ok with the bending of societies gender roles to let this happen. He was ok with loving her.

_You'll come back / When it's over / No need to say good bye_

Nearly September and she was due back at the college. She'd only gone back to Seattle once, and had returned quickly after. He didn't dare ask what had happened. He figured if she wanted to talk about it, she would.

She didn't.

"So, moving back to Sarah Lawrence."

She nodded and looked like she was going to cry.

He took her face in his hands, kissed her gently, then slid down on one knee, pulling out the box.

_Now we're back to the beginning / It's just a feeling and now one knows yet / But just because they can't feel it too / Doesn't mean that you have to forget_

"Engaged? But why?" No one seemed to understand the life of Kat now that she wore a ring. Her father screamed at her, her sister scorned her, and her friends at school gave up on understanding her.

"I love him," she said softly, looking at the simple ring. "I love him more than anything in the world, and even if we wait three more years, we're getting married."

Later, back at the apartment, she railed, "I spend more time defending my decision than I do anything else! Including homework!"

He took her head in his hands again, kissed her temple, "They're just jealous."

"And they say I should set my sights higher! Not just date a trade worker. That I'll get over you, someday."

He took a step back, "Will you?"

She shook her head, "That isn't what I meant. I love you."

"They can't touch this, Kat. What we have? It'll survive this."

_Let your memories grow stronger an stronger / 'Til they're before your eyes_

He toiled for 13 hours a day, coming home sweaty and raw. She stressed over papers for 13 hours a day, coming home clean but exhausted.

He scraped on groceries, saving money for something, though he didn't know what. She stopped eating at the Quad, saving her money for something- a life, a house. A future.

He sat at home in the silence and did nothing but think of her. She sat in her dorm room and tapped her pen against her paper, counting down minutes.

Anyone who saw her get off the bus in the middle of Manhattan would agree that they loved each other; for they held each other tightly for several minutes, each trying to out wait the other as to who would let go first. Often, they would hold so tight they fell over, the fall being the only thing to break the fond embrace.

_You'll come back / When it's over / No need to say good bye_

"Do you, Katarina Stratford take Patrick Verona to be your lawfully wedded husband ..."

He wasn't paying attention to the vows, not really. He was watching the curve of her cheek, the fold of her hands, the wave of her hair. She had never looked more perfect.

She looked up at him swiftly, and for a second there was a moment of terror in her eyes before he realised there was something he was supposed to say. Like she had said yes to him all those years ago, he would say it back.

"I do," he said firmly, not waiting to be told to kiss her, leaning in and wrapping her in a kiss that lasted until the deacon tapped him on the shoulder and told him to wait for a little while longer.

As the hall rang with laughter, Patrick took Kat's hand and stared off into the distance.


End file.
